


Home

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Female Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Female Protagonist, Female Relationships, Female-Centric, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:38:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Home is a promise that I will make every day if you will listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hughville](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hughville/gifts).



> Date Written: 19-25 January 2015  
> Word Count: 2623  
> Written for: [](http://ouat-ff-xchange.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ouat-ff-xchange.livejournal.com/)**ouat_ff_xchange** Fall 2014 mod gift  
>  Recipient: [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Hughville/profile)[](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Hughville/)**Hughville**  
>  Summary: Home is a promise that I will make every day if you will listen.  
> Spoilers: Canon divergence AU nebulously set after S4, so everything is potentially up for grabs.  
> Warnings: No standard warnings apply.  
> Website: ShatterStorm Productions – Doggie Duo  
> Link to: <http://bdkk.shatterstorm.net/>  
> Archive: ShatterStorm Productions & AO3 only…all others ask for permission & we'll see…  
> Feedback: Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> Author’s Disclaimer: "Once Upon a Time," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Adam Horowitz, Edward Kitsis, Kitsis/Horowitz, and ABC Studios. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "Once Upon a Time," ABC, or any representatives of the actors.
> 
> Author’s Notes: I've been trying to think of a good idea for Hughville's mod gift, and then [this poem](https://www.facebook.com/TylerKnottGregson/posts/60363468307104) by Tyler Knott Gregson showed up in my Facebook timeline and the seed of an idea was formed. It took a little time to get it all written, but here it is. I don't like to write angst normally for a gift for someone else, but this just felt _right_ somehow.
> 
> Dedication: My muses, as usual…
> 
> Beta: theonlyspl, but all remaining errors are entirely on me.

_Home is a promise_  
 _that I will make every day_  
 _if you will listen._  
     -- Tyler Knott Gregson

 

With a heavy sigh, I roll over as the front door closes. The hot sting of tears assaults my eyes, but I don't bother to open them or wipe away the damp trails leading back into the hair at my temples.

_Focus on the good. Don't let the bad take over._

Easier said than done, but I try anyway.

Taking slow, deep breaths, my mind replays our lovemaking tonight. I can almost feel her hands on my body again. There are calluses on her hands that come from a life of hard knocks and having to fight for everything. I know each one intimately from -- days? weeks? months? -- what feels like a lifetime of interaction. She has learned all the right amounts of pressure to bring me to the heights of ecstasy, as well as relieve any stress I may be feeling, even if I don't consciously know about it.

My hand stretches automatically toward her side of the bed, the tears returning as I feel the cooling sheets. Before I can even try to stop myself from crying yet again, there's a knock at the door.

"Mom?"

Picking up my nightgown from the floor, I get dressed as I head for the door. I wipe away the tear tracks and run a hand through my hair, then smile as I open it to regard my -- _our_ son. His hair sticks up at odd angles, a gentle reminder that he'll need a haircut soon, and his expression transforms into a frown as he looks at me.

"Are you all right, Henry?"

"I was just going to ask you the same thing," he says. "I heard the front door. Did Ma get a call or something?"

I briefly consider lying to him, but just can't bring myself to do it, so I shrug instead. "I'm not sure. I didn't hear her phone ring at all, but I'm guessing that's what it was."

"Oh. I thought Gramps was on call for that tonight." His forehead furrows for a moment. "Oh, maybe they switched because of Neal's exam tomorrow morning. Gramma really likes it when he goes to all of those appointments with her."

"That's entirely possible." I smooth my fingers over his hair. "I remember when I had all of your appointments to take care of. I wanted so badly to share them with someone, give you more of a family."

He wraps his arms around me, cheek resting easily on my shoulder. When did he get so tall? "Are you okay, Mom? You look like you've been crying." He leans back to look at me again. "Are you and Ma fighting? She's been leaving a lot at night lately. It can't all be police business."

"I-- I'm not sure, Henry." To say that I'm startled by his observation is an understatement. "Is her leaving keeping you up at night? If it is, I'll put a stop to it. You need your rest."

"No, it's not that. I don't normally notice until she closes the front door, and some nights I hear the door when she comes home."

When she comes home? That means there are nights that I don't even know that she's left the house because I wake up next to her in the morning. Oh, this can't be good. And I realize that I won't be sleeping any longer tonight. But I can't let Henry realize that.

"Well, she's probably just being hyper vigilant about keeping all of Storybrooke safe," I reply, cupping his cheek with a smile. "You know how seriously she takes her Savior duties."

His face lights up with that childlike innocence and faith that gave him the Heart of the Truest Believer. It melts away years from his face, and I can see my little boy smiling up at me, so proud of something he'd done or learned.

"Yeah, you're probably right," he says, then yawns.

I press a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Go get some sleep, Henry. Tomorrow is a school day, after all."

He hesitates, arms still wrapped tightly around my waist. "Are you sure? I-- I could stay here with you until Ma comes back? I mean, so you're not alone or anything."

His concern makes me smile, proud of the incredible young man he's becoming. "Thank you for the offer, but I'll be fine. I'm going to make myself a cup of chamomile tea and read my book for a bit before I go back to sleep."

"Okay. I love you, Mom," he says, hugging me tightly again, and I find myself blinking back tears again.

"I love you, too, Henry."

He reluctantly lets go and walks to his bedroom. Once his door closes, I slip into robe and slippers and grab my phone before heading downstairs to get my tea made. As I wait for the water to boil, I fire off a quick text to Emma.

> _I hope it's not a major emergency tonight. Henry's worried that we're fighting. Are we? -R_

  
I retrieve my favorite mug, a lopsided, brightly painted thing that Henry made for me in the first grade, and fill the tea ball with some of the last of the chamomile that I dried earlier this year. Time to harvest the next batch from the greenhouse and start drying it. I'll make that my top priority of the morning, after I've gotten Henry and Emma off to school and work for the day. And then my phone buzzes. 

> _Nothing major. Sorry I woke him. Won't happen again. Not fighting. -E_

  
Short and mostly to the point, like most of her texts, _and_ it's mostly grammatically correct. But none of her emoticons, which means something's definitely wrong. Fear settles in the pit of my stomach as I type my reply. 

> _When are you coming home? I'm making tea. I can make you a mug? ILY -R_

  
The electric kettle begins its intense gurgling sounds that signal the water is boiling, and I let it shut itself off while waiting for Emma's reply. It finally comes in as I'm pouring water into my mug. 

> _I'll just crash at the station tonight. Don't wait up. Love you. -E_

  
A strange blend of panic and rage overwhelms me as I read her message and I hit speed dial without thought. The call goes to her voicemail, so I hang up and try again. When it goes to voicemail a second time, I hang up and fire off a message. 

> _Answer your damned phone, Emma._

  
Before I can attempt to call her again, my phone lights up for a call. It barely even starts Emma's ringtone before I answer it. "Emma, come home."

There's silence, then a heavy sigh. "I can't," she finally whispers.

The fear and defeat in her voice terrify me, heart thudding wildly in my chest, but I force myself to stay as calm as possible. "If I promise not to yell, will you tell me why?"

"I don't know why exactly."

"Okay." I stare at my mug briefly, then get lemon and honey completely on autopilot. "Can you tell me why you left tonight? Or why you _keep_ leaving?"

This time the silence is marred by the soft sounds of her breath hitching, followed by faint sniffling. She's crying, but doesn't want me to know. I don't say anything, prepping my mug of tea with one hand, the other tightly clutching my phone to my ear. Just as I'm about to say something, she clears her throat.

"Scared," she replies. "Not sure I can do this, Regina."

It feels like my heart drops into my stomach at her admission. "Emma, where are you?"

"Just-- Just go back to bed, okay? I'll see you tomorrow."

"No, I'm not going to bed until I know what's going on." I finally let my rigid control slip just a bit as I feel the tears forming again. "Don't you realize how scared I am right now that I've done something to upset you? Where are you?"

"It's not you, Regina."

"Where are you?"

She sighs softly. "In the cruiser out front. I can see the kitchen light's on."

"Come inside."

"No."

"Then I'm coming out to you."

"Regina--"

"No, Emma, I'm not going to let you do this alone. We're in this together and that means everything. So either you come inside where it's warm and dry, or I risk getting sick to come out and sit with you in the cruiser. Those are your only options right now."

There's a long pause, but I can hear her sniffling and moving around in the background. Just as I'm about to go for the front door to head out to join her, she lets out a heavy sigh. "Do you have enough hot water to make me a cup of that tea?"

"I do, but I can make you a cup of hot cocoa if you'd prefer," I reply, smiling as I hear the cruiser door open and close.

"You got anything stronger?" she asks and I'm transported back to the first night we met.

"Yes, but I don't think that will make this any easier, Emma."

Hearing her key in the lock, I step out into the foyer to watch as she comes into the house. There are dark circles under her eyes and she looks absolutely exhausted. Turning off my phone, I slip it into my robe pocket as she hangs up her coat and toes off her boots, then meet her at the top of the three steps from entryway to foyer with open arms. Only when she's in my arms do I let out the breath I've been holding.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, clinging tightly to me.

"Let's get our drinks and head into the den. I can get the fire going if you'd like."

She shakes her head as she steps back to follow me into the kitchen. "Can we go upstairs to bed?"

"Once we're done talking, I will be more than happy to curl up next to you in bed," I reply, busying myself with making her cocoa. "But I don't want us to go to bed with any potential anger between us. You know I don't like that sort of thing."

"I know."

We fall into an uneasy silence as I make her cocoa. Pouring it into her favorite mug, I hand it to her, then grab my tea and motion toward the den. I follow her this time, feeling that odd sense of déjà vu again from the first time we met. But tonight, we settle side by side on the couch, and the animosity is nowhere in attendance.

"Will you tell me what happened?" I finally ask, setting my tea on the coffee table. "Why do you keep leaving in the middle of the night?"

"Three years," she whispers before setting her own mug on the table. Her arms wrap around legs tucked up close to her chest, and she rests her forehead on her knees.

"I’m not sure--"

"In two weeks, it'll be our three year anniversary of officially being a couple."

I frown at her words. "Yes, and we decided to go away for the weekend. Your parents agreed to keep an eye on Henry for us."

"Yeah," she says, one hand rubbing at the back of her neck. "About that…"

"Please don't tell me that Snow has backed out of that promise."

"No, she hasn't." Emma falls silent again for a moment before continuing. "Remember when you asked me what was so special about Tallahassee that I stayed there for two years?" When I nod, she continues, "I left a few months before my third anniversary of living there. I've been in Storybrooke for almost five years now, not including that year in New York when Henry and I didn't have our memories."

"I'm not sure I understand, Emma."

"Don't you get it? I've lived in Storybrooke longer than anywhere else in my entire life. The last time I lived anywhere close to this long in one place, I was just a kid. This family, they kept me until I was three, but then I got sent back into the system because they were gonna have their own baby. They didn't need me anymore."

"Oh, Emma…"

"After that, I never lasted more than like two years in any one place. I always got gun-shy and started acting up more at around the two year mark, if not sooner. It kind of depended from home to home. I just never wanted to get comfortable enough to be hurt like that again."

Without thought, I shift closer, wrapping my arms around her and press a gentle kiss to her temple. "But, Emma, you've been here for five years."

"I know." She leans her head on my shoulder and lets out a shuddery breath.

"So what's got you ready to run scared into the night all of a sudden?"

"My mom," she finally whispers. "She's been hinting at wanting another grandchild and wanting to fulfill her lifelong dream of planning her only daughter's w--"

"Wedding?" And all of a sudden everything makes sense as I pull back to stare at her profile. "Are you kidding me? When will she _ever_ learn how to curb that tongue of hers? She never considers the consequences of her actions or her words." Before I can stop myself, the words are out of my mouth. "I should've let her die on that damned horse."

Emma's body shakes on a choked sound that is somewhere between laugh and sob. I don't loosen my hold on her at all. I both regret my words and don't, but that's not important right now. The woman I love more than anyone else is in pain, soul-deep pain, and I can't allow that to continue. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I pull her close again.

"Your mother has no right to badger you about a wedding or a grandchild," I finally say after pressing a kiss to her hair. "She has Henry, not to mention that she has Neal to raise. Her fairytale worldview is tired and doesn't work in this land. That she can't see past it is _her_ issue, not yours."

"But--"

"But nothing, Emma." I lean back again, this time to cup her face in my hands, forcing her gaze to meet mine. "I love you, Emma Swan, and nothing is going to change that. This is your home, and it has been for a long time now. I will remind you of that fact every single day if I need to, but you are _not_ going to be replaced or discarded. You belong here with me and Henry. You complete this family."

"You don't understand…"

"I don't? Emma, you were sent back by family after family for not being good enough. I was kept and ignored for the same reason. I was _punished_ for not being good enough. You had new chances with each family who took you in, even if they didn't work out. I didn't get that option. I was trapped, first by my mother and then by my husband. By the time I thought I was free of both of them, I was trapped by the need for vengeance and power. I didn't start to feel free until Henry came into my life. And when you joined us, I finally felt _truly_ free, like I belonged somewhere because I was good enough."

"You _are_ good enough, Regina."

"And so are you, my love." My lips brush across hers before I rest our foreheads together. "And I will spend the rest of my life reminding you of that."


End file.
